“They already spoke to me,” I said. “They just didn’t think I was listening.”

I hung up.

Five minutes later, I saw Shawn burst through the restaurant doors onto the rooftop edge, scanning the street below like a man searching for a lifeboat. His tie hung loose now. The smugness was gone. He spotted me across the street beneath the café awning and immediately started down the stairs.

I didn’t move.

By the time he reached me, he was breathless and pale with panic.

“Anna, what the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

I stirred my espresso slowly. “Enjoying Rome.”

“You canceled everything?”

“Yes.”

“You embarrassed my family!”

I laughed then—not loudly, not cruelly, but genuinely. The absurdity finally hit me all at once.

“Your family?” I repeated. “Interesting choice of words.”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t do this right now.”

“No,” I said softly. “You already did this.”

For a second, he looked stunned—not angry, not defensive, just exposed. Like a man realizing too late that the person he underestimated had finally stopped begging to be loved.

“You’re overreacting,” he muttered weakly.

I leaned back in my chair and studied him carefully. The man I had defended for eleven years suddenly looked unbearably small.

“Do you know what hurt the most?” I asked quietly. “Not the missing chair. Not even the laughter. It was watching you look relieved when they excluded me. Like you’d finally picked a side.”

His face changed then.

Because he knew it was true.

Behind him, across the street, the rooftop celebration was disintegrating in real time. Guests were leaving awkwardly. Staff members clustered near the entrance. Eleanor stood frozen beside the table like a queen watching her kingdom burn.

And for once, no one could blame me for the fire.

Shawn pulled out the empty chair beside me. “Can we please just talk privately?”

I glanced at the chair, then back at him.

Funny.

Now there was finally a seat for me.

But I no longer wanted it.

I stood, smoothing the wrinkles from my gown, and placed a few euros beneath my espresso cup. Shawn reached for my wrist, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Anna… please.”

I gently pulled away.

“For years,” I said, “I kept trying to earn a place at your table.”

I looked across the street one last time at the chaos, the luxury, the people who only valued me when I made their lives beautiful.

“Tonight,” I whispered, “I realized I should’ve built my own instead.”

Then I walked away through the Roman night while my phone kept ringing behind me… and for the first time in years, I didn’t turn back.